Beretta y2k rosewood grips cracked#
Beretta y2k rosewood grips serial#

He worked it like it was a scalpel, a needle, a goddamn laser. The Benelli wasn’t cheap, but in Eddie’s hands it had to be worth every penny. If the captain ever found out I let Eddie bring this cannon into battle, the captain’d shove all our badges right up my ass. Pistol grip, removable stock, tritium sights for night-shooting. It was a Benelli 12 gauge, an M4 like Special Forces use. Eddie had to have the creme de la creme, the King of all Shotguns. Standard issue for the force was a Mossberg. Each bullet a breath above my head, each a fatal whisper. “Cocksucker!” I yelled, and hit the dust. I sucked in a breath and popped my head up again. Hard to tell what, but these street ﬂakes gravitate toward cheap Chinese or Polish knockoffs. What was that, about 10, 11 shots? Pissant was using a 9mm, from the looks of it.

Beretta y2k rosewood grips cracked#

I hit the ground as three more bullets cracked the pergo ﬂooring not far from my head. He was standing at the pulpit now, gun trembling. I peeked around the pew and saw that the crankhead wasn’t even there anymore. We’ll all put our guns down and - “ Pop, pop. “C’mon, buddy,” Shonda called out past her Glock. The way he moved? Too fast, too erratic for somebody not out of his gourd. Eddie was off in the kitchen or bathroom or something, making a phone call, and here this pale-faced jitterbug comes in and starts trying to murder us out of respect for his dead criminal friend? He was a tweaker, a meth-head. Pulled out the gun and starting popping shots. As soon as he walked into the place and saw us coming out of that bedroom, he ﬂipped shit like some kind of cornered junkie. “I’m just paying my respects!” the shooter screamed. I was just about to put in a call to Homicide when the madman showed up. He kills his victims, burning over half of them with some kind of chemical that leaves them as little more than cinders, and then paints that big number somewhere near the bodies. They call him the Seven Killer because of this very thing.

Beretta y2k rosewood grips serial#

See, that’s the thing about that serial murderer. Painted in blood and other bits was the Roman numeral VII. Above him, more ﬂies collected on the ceiling. David’s clothing was stretched out, laying cruciform. The bed - once-white sheets with tight hospital corners - was soaked in blood. The main living room had been turned into some kind of creepy cathedral - four rows of oaken pews sitting before a black marble pulpit with a silver cross nailed to it. On one hand, it was a penthouse apartment, as cold and sterile as rubbing alcohol.

But we didn’t need any kind of tactical entry, because the door was already open. Shonda even brought along the Knock-Knock, just in case we had to batter the door down. We got there, not knowing what to expect, but we were damn sure ready for anything. We had our thing, they had theirs and never the two shall meet. We didn’t pay much attention to that case, even though it was all But some Center City detectives were working on another case, something that didn’t concern my team. He played in an ugly sandbox - Mexican black tar, underage prostitution, immigrant slaves. We’d gone to the penthouse because we ﬁnally had a lead on the untraceable Father David. Two cases came crashing together that day. He answered my request: Another bullet punched into the pew, sending up a little cough of oak splinters. I’ll be real chatty when I break his kneecaps. “Lower your weapon! We just want to talk!” Yeah. I said my own little prayer, wishing to whatever God would listen that this whackjob didn’t know Eddie was out there, shotgun in hand, ready to seal the deal. Somewhere across the room, on the other side of the madman. She held her Glock in both hands, her nose pressed against the top of it as if the weapon was part of a prayer. From behind the pew, I could see Shonda behind an alcove. The bullet stung the wood in front of me like a lead bumblebee. “Thou shalt SHOOT the CRAZIES in the HEART BEFORE they come bite the heart out of YOU.”īY Clayton Oliver-keith taylorand chuck wendig

A hardware companion to Vampire, Werewolf and Mage chronicles For use with the World of Darkness Rulebook.

Optional rules and new Merits that reflect combat styles suitable for the weapons contained within.

A broad and detailed listing of every weapon, vehicle or piece of equipment a character might need in the World of Darkness.

Now gimme that du ct tape and those tinsnips. It’s the golden rule, my man, the golden rule.